


Cherry

by lexilacey27



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Domestic Violence, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hux Has No Chill, Jealous Hux, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Past Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-01 16:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15777519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexilacey27/pseuds/lexilacey27
Summary: "I fall to pieces when I'm with you. Why? Because I love you so much. I fall to pieces; my cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme and all of my peaches are ruined."----------------------------------------------------------Sex slaves have always been particularly common.A high ranking general hiring one to be his personal secretary never was.Kylo is interested.Chaos ensues.-----------------------------------------------------------This fic was born due to listening to Lana del Rey excessively for a week straight. Expect references.





	1. Who's Freer Than Me?

So here you are, being escorted by guards to the First Order's main base, the Starkiller. All you know is that your master sent a resume to the First Order, claiming that you had "special talents". You wouldn't be that surprised if you were hired to be a sex slave. You find yourself not caring either way. Either way, it's better than the life you had.

This is the closest to freedom you'll ever taste. You'll take what you can get.

You were one of the few slaves your master granted literacy to. Something he said must have appealed to someone on this base, or they were in dire need of secretaries or sex slaves, whichever job you turned out to have to perform. Anything would be better than home, if you could even call what you'd left that. You were passed around from man to man since you turned fourteen. It was up to you to find other ways to be useful (and ways not to get knocked up). You were a midwife, a secretary, an accountant, and a therapist. It was a hell hole in there, with all the other slaves catfighting constantly, the older ones counting down the days until they were sold away.

Most of them weren't as lucky as you. If they were a particular nuisance to your master, they were killed on their eighteenth birthday. Others were sold off to another master that needed a nanny, housekeeper, or gardener. Some escaped, but they never got far. They were raped and killed the second they were found.

There were slaves your master kept that were older than you, and they served to pamper and groom the younger girls to get them ready for night duty. They cooked and cleaned, and did clerical work like yourself. There were only about two or three of them at any given time, but you noticed the pattern and it was the spot you were gunning for. It came with privileges. A couple of them were allowed to leave during your tenure when they found a man from the city to marry them and pay your master enough for the end of their servitude.

That was all you had ever hoped for.

Now, though, you were somehow brought here, to the Starkiller base. Is this better or worse?

Maybe that question is answered when the troopers push you down at a red-headed general's feet and mutter, "Here's your slave," before walking away. Or at least they try. The general coughs loudly and they turn back around to face him.

"Next time you throw her around, I will have your heads. I paid good money to bring her here. And why is she shackled? Look at her; do you really think she is a threat? Unshackle her. Now," he commands sternly.

They do as he says without comment, and the general helps you stand. He's a tall man, and intimidating despite his slim body. All of his features are striking and you realize you've never seen a man quite like this before. His skin is a milky white, his eyes are a bright, cold blue, and his hair is fiery red. He dresses in all black, which makes his unique coloring stand out even more. 

"Hmm. (Y/n)," he says, testing saying your name aloud. "Your master speaks very highly of you. I definitely paid him a hefty price. I expect you'll perform well?"

"Yes, of course, sir," you respond, your voice husky from disuse. You hadn't spoken since you said goodbye to all of your friends from the slave quarters.

"It's General," he corrects. "Do you have any idea what your job title is?"

You shake your head.

He scoffs. "It figures they wouldn't inform you. You probably spent the whole time thinking you'd be performing the same duties you had to before..." He places his hands on his hips and rolls his eyes. "I don't know why we keep half of them on the payroll. Anyway, you are to be my secretary. We didn't want to hire anyone with ties to anything, not even the First Order, so I thought you would be a perfect fit. I presume you have been kept ignorant about war matters, even if your master is somewhat of a focal player in it. As a token of good faith, I hereby grant you your freedom on the condition that you serve under me for five years. After that, you'll be compensated monetarily for your service and you will be free to either leave or stay. Do you consent to the terms of service or would you prefer to see a written contract?"

Freedom? Contract? Monetary compensation? Consent? It's almost too much; it's dizzying. 

"Well, (y/n)?"

You feel stupid, but you're still too shell-shocked to reply.

He pauses for a moment and then nods. "Very well. I suppose you are not used to matters like this. I'll let you see a written contract. It's how business is done in the First Order when you are employed rather than enslaved."

You merely nod, trying to think over the implications of this. Five years? And then you were free, with the entire galaxy at your fingertips. What would you even do?

"What an oversight on my part. I failed to introduce myself. I am General Hux, First Commander of this base."

You nod, following him down the hallway to what you presume to be is his office. He hands you a datapad with the contract on it and motions for you to sit down across from him.

"Take your time," he says. "I'd like you to fully understand your duties."

So you start to read. The first clause tells you what he already said, that you will serve under him for five years. In the case of his untimely death, you will serve under the next First Commander or possibly Supreme Leader, wherever the First Order sees fit. If he receives a promotion, you will follow him.

You will not be allowed to walk through the halls unless you are in uniform, which consists of black heels, a knee-length black skirt, a black blouse and light makeup. 

You are to take most meals with the General and work through them.

You are to avoid two people on the base: Kylo Ren and Supreme Leader Snoke, unless the General has meetings with them. They are Force-users and as dangerous as they are unpredictable.

Your daily tasks seem to be making sure he knows of his itinerary, then entering data that comes in through the day into datapads, transcribing meetings so he can go over them later (you wonder why he doesn't just record them) and making sure the base is well-stocked.

If you violate any of these terms, you will be evaluated by the General and his peers and they will determine your fate as they see fit.

It doesn't sound bad, though. It doesn't sound bad at all.

It just doesn't add up. "Why me? I was just a slave," you ask, despite your better judgment. 

"You will have no emotional connection to the work you're doing. If I hired someone with ties to the Resistance, however slight, they may try to turn the tides in their favor. Of course, we'd never do that anyway. If I hired someone with ties to the First Order, they run the risk of being motivated by revenge and they will ignore intel in favor of vengeance. You will have more power than you realize if you show me that I can trust you. I will use you as an ear for advice from an unbiased source. I would already know that they have biases, which is precisely why I did not search for former soldiers or even secretaries for this position."

You nod and sign the datapad, consenting to something for the first time in your life. You are careful not to let on how ecstatic you are. The general seems emotionless, and he's not doing this for you, anyway.

"Come with me. I'll show you your quarters. They're right off mine. You'll have your own bathroom, but unfortunately, the architects did not have the oversight to install a shower there. I will get one installed in the near future, but until then you will either use mine or one in the gym. You are to shower once a day after your scheduled exercise sessions."

You nod, remembering that from the contract. You can only imagine how much this man belabored over everything. You respect that in him, though. He definitely has drive, and you can see some of that in yourself. Maybe that's how you got here.

You follow him down another hallway, struggling to keep up with the pace of his long strides. The quarters are much nicer than the ones you were used to. Sometimes, the men would keep you in their bed until the morning, and most of the time, their rooms were pleasant aside from the stench of sex, but when you were at your master's, you slept with the rest of the girls all over mattresses that were sprawled over a dirt floor in a hut separate from the master's own house. The older girls got to sleep in there, but you never did unless you were seeing the master that night.

This is yours, though, at least for the time being. You have a bed, dressers, and a mirror... all things you used to dream about. You try not to let yourself get caught up in this, but you find yourself thinking you'd do anything this man asked you to now.

He lets you get dressed, and you find that everything is well-stocked. You have plenty of work outfits, pajamas and workout clothes.

The general takes you to the cafeteria next and he has you bring up your food to the office. He encourages you to eat more than what you had originally put on your plate, telling you that you were under the weight requirement the First Order stated for your height. 

It's still a kind gesture, and you smile at him. He doesn't return it, but you try not to take offense. You question if he ever has in his life. You then question how much reason you've ever had to smile and you frown, thinking of the girls you'd left behind. You're not the kind of selfless that would trade your newfound freedom for them to have a taste, but you still have some sort of survivor's guilt.

"Even though this job will take up much of your time, I encourage you to socialize with the other secretaries employed on the base. Your job is the most demanding out of all of theirs since I am First Commander, but there will still be opportunities for you to acquaint yourself."

You nod. 

"What do you think about the war?"

You blush. "I must confess I've been kept in the dark about most of it," you admit sheepishly. 

"I'll give you some reading to enlighten you. The only way to true power is through the First Order."

"What about for people like me? The other slaves? I know slavery is illegal in the Resistance," you argue.

"That's where you've been misled. They enslave prisoners like any other government, in some cases even prisoners' children. Either way, it doesn't truly matter what stance they take. They lack the power to enforce it."

"What do you think?"

"About slavery? I think prisoners of war should be enslaved. As for girls like yourself, forced to use their bodies against their will... I can't say I agree with that practice."

"Then why doesn't the First Order do anything about it?"

"I have yet to climb far enough up the ladder. I promise, since you are in my employ, I will argue on sex slaves' behalf. No one knows your background besides the troopers who brought you here and they are insignificant anyway. No one else has to know."

"I know better than to think that you want power so you can end slavery."

"No. I want power for power's sake. Don't you? Isn't that why you fought your way to the top of the harem?"

"I... How did you know about that?" It was true, though. How could you say you didn't thirst for what you'd worked for?

"Your master. Yet another reason I cannot just end slavery. He is a free agent who sells ammunition to anyone with the credits. We cannot stop free agents until we conquer their homelands, which we are in the process of doing... He posted your resume on all accessible databases. I offered the most compensation, and that's why you're sitting here now. I figured, here's a girl who had nothing to her name, took the horrendous cards life dealt her into her own hands, and ended up winning the entire sabacc game, at least on that level. What kind of sex slave's resume ends up on secretarial databases? I thought, what could she do if I employed her? What could she do if I dealt her better hands?"

"I'll show you," you say, exhilaration running through your veins as he smirks and seemingly tries not to laugh.

 

 

 


	2. Relying on the Kindness of Strangers

“Oh, look, it’s the new girl,” a blonde woman with a very thick accent chirps. It’s like the general’s, but more pronounced. You wish he was here and would escort you places, but he has to rise earlier than you to sort out your work for the day. Apparently, the time he blocked you for the treadmill is when all the other secretaries are heading there. He did say he wanted you to acquaint yourself with them, and you were never one to leave a task unfinished.

“Yes, I’m (y/n),” you manage as you step on the treadmill. You had always been one step ahead of the girls in the harem. You’re uncomfortable now in the face of women that know how to do their jobs better than you.

You were still top bitch, though. They were probably jealous of you, for taking a position they may have felt was rightfully theirs since they’d served longer than you had.

“She’s very young, isn’t she?” the other woman comments. She’s a lot taller than you and the other girl, with dark hair and skin. “Pretty, too. Maybe that’s why the general picked her. Perhaps he is a man after all.”

“You don’t look a day over eighteen,” the blonde one says, then reaches out her hand. “I’m Elara. This is Tabitha. I’m Officer Temple’s secretary and she is Lieutenant Doran’s. We’re pleased to meet you, but bloody jealous of your position,” she grins.

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you too,” you say, deciding to take the lack of subtlety for what it was.

“We know nothing about your background and we admit, we’re curious,” Tabitha states. “I’d love to know how someone so young got this position. You must be a fantastic secretary.”

“I—“

“You don’t have to answer that question. The less they know about your background, the better,” General Hux says from behind you, startling you a little. “Your services are urgently required. I should have told you to skip the gym on your first day. We have much to go over.”

“Heading into the lady’s gym just to fetch your pet, now, are we, General? Don’t you know dicks aren’t allowed in here?” Elara says while Tabitha snickers.

The General is taken aback and hesitates to respond, but when he does, his tone is firm and nearly betrays his anger. “I will let Officer Temple know of your blatant insubordination. Just know that I will be certain I can find something to withhold from you myself, or rooms for you to clean. Perhaps we’ll find it necessary that you be demoted. Again.”

Elara’s face falls and she doesn’t dare retaliate. You wonder why she even said anything in the first place. Surely nothing good ever comes out of opening your mouth like that. No one would dare speak to your master like that. He would have killed them on the spot. Perhaps you half-expected Hux to do the same.

“She’s a classless woman,” the general huffs as he walks out of the room with you following behind. “She only has such a position because her father served in the military himself and reached a level of distinction. I’ve tried time and time again to get her removed from the base, but to no avail. Anyway, you can change quickly and then meet me at my office. I have breakfast for you there.”

——

You’re slightly surprised at how insistent he is on you eating, but perhaps you do look gaunt and malnourished, or he’s really intent on you meeting the First Order’s weight requirement. You ate better than most of the slaves, but you were still underfed. You can’t hold down as much as he tries to make you eat yet, but you feel better with the slight increase in calories anyway.

“This is Kylo Ren. He insisted on meeting you, and I figured it would be better to get this out of the way sooner rather than later.”

He’s taller than the General, clad in all black as well. You can see he’s well toned from the way his robe fits around his arms, but you can’t tell much else, as you can’t see Kylo’s face since it’s obscured by his ridiculously ornate mask.

“Hmm. So this is your pet?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

“She isn’t a pet. She’s my secretary,” the general says, his tone betraying his annoyance.

“Of course, of course. It’s just... no one authorized this.”

“I’m quite certain I can hire my own secretary. She will report to me and only me, and she is no one else’s concern but my own.”

“So you’ll pay her out of your own salary?”

“Her terms of service have been worked out prior to this. None of this concerns you.”

“But she will be present during meetings.”

“Yes. Not for input. To transcribe.”

“I don’t know why you insist on that. You could just record them and have her transcribe them later if you would like to read every word verbatim.”

“I want her present. I want notes on facial expressions and tone of voice and I don’t need her squinting at holorecordings. There’s nothing to replace being present.”

“If you couldn’t tell, (y/n), the General is a bit of a...stickler to rules and regulations. If you’d like, perhaps you could come work for me.”

“For you?” The General sputters. “I hired her. She already signed the contract. She works for me for five years. You have no jurisdiction here. Besides, you don’t need a secretary. What paperwork do you do?”

“Of course. You’re right, Armitage. The only problem is... I’ve tried for the entire time we’ve been talking to enter her head and I’ve failed to do so.”

Your ears perk up at this. Enter your head? You didn’t even know Force-sensitives could do this.

“And you can enter mine?” The general asks, appalled.

“Believe me, I try not to,” he mutters. “But her... she shouldn’t be able to do that. She must be very strong willed—“

“Or you overestimate your skills.” You try not to take the insult too personally. This was less about you than it was about the dick sizing competition between the two of them.

“Am I supposed to be transcribing this?” You ask, attempting to break the tension.

Kylo laughs, the vibration sounding warbled through his mask. “So she has a sense of humor, too. Tell me, girl, did you even feel it, when I was trying to enter your head?”

“Should it hurt?”

“Maybe. I’ve been told it does. Ah, so you’re wondering if the General and Elara had a relationship. You really put up a fight, and just for that?”

“I didn’t even know—“

Kylo ignores this and continues to ramble about the general. “Oh, they were betrothed. Or just about. Both of their fathers really pushed for it, but—“

“That’s enough,” the General commands.

“Enough? I didn’t even get to tell her about how you made her cry in front of a good percentage of the base. Oh, and she had the gall to say something to you today? That woman doesn’t know when to quit, does she?”

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t had your way with her. I know she spreads her legs for whoever asks. You know very well about her inability to quit while she’s ahead.”

“Hmm. Elara can be very eager. It does get tiresome... but I really do think the girl should be transcribing this. See how she blushes? Don’t you want this to be noted?”

“Did you come in here just to bother me? I do have work to do. And you have machines to ruin in order to create more work for me, don’t you?”

Kylo sighs, an odd breathy noise exhaling from the mask’s modifier. “Well, I’m glad I got to meet your secretary, in any case. I know you won’t allow her to, but I think she should be permitted to train with me to resist the Force.”

“No. Absolutely not. I thought you said she already can?”

“Not as well as she could if I helped her. You realize I did just get in, yes?”

“This isn’t what I should be discussing on her first day. Besides, I am not keen at all on the idea of you being alone with her.”

“Oh? Is that right, now?”

“Yes. Leave.”

“Very well. But I’ll be seeing her later,” he says and walks out of the room.

“I am sorry about dragging you away from the gym for that, but he would have been worse if I kept him waiting. As for the women you’ve met, you know I am not fond of Elara, but if you wish to keep her acquaintance I cannot stop you. My qualms with her are between us and us alone.”

“What does he do?” You ask, the curiosity too strong to keep quiet.

“Ren? He’s a Force sensitive, so he is, in essence, a weapon with delusions of grandeur. He is too temperamental and unpredictable to rule the galaxies. He dreams of it, but he lacks the order necessary to implement such a dream into reality. He’s dangerous, and should be avoided, but he is only so dangerous because he acts without rhyme or reason.”

“I understand,” you say. However, you’re not truly sure where the true power lies here. If you’re going to be someone’s bitch, maybe you’d be better off with Kylo. Still, you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you. It’s better to get Hux to trust you first, and to figure out if his desire for you to stay wary of Kylo is warranted. Of course, it’d be best to have both of them wrapped around your finger, since they are one both one step away from the top, and when the time comes... you could be with the victor. Isn’t that quite the possibility, with this new hand you’ve been so kindly dealt?

“Good. Well, I have procured some reading for you to do. It entails the history of the First Order and our goals as a government. I will test you on your comprehension later and ask for your views.”

You spend the day reading with a cup of tea while Hux stays busy, talking on his holocom to other generals about the current war effort. It seems that the General just received his promotion, but he acts like he was born for it. He performs every task succinctly, and you see him run down a checklist of his own.

“Do you want another cup of tea?” You ask him tentatively.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” he says without looking up, so you fix it for him while you feel the sting against your skull that you felt before when Kylo was in the room. You fight back against it, but you have no idea if it worked or not.

“Could I have another?” You ask, admittedly sick of nursing the same cup from four hours ago.

“Yes, of course. You don’t have to ask in the future,” he says. “You’re free to help yourself with anything you find at the tea station. I have it installed here for a reason, and you’ll be in charge of stocking it very soon.”

“Thank you,” you say, handing over his own cup as you get your own, wincing a little.

“Are you alright, (y/n)?” the general asks, looking intently at you.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just really need another tea. I might be getting a headache,” you lie. You wonder if that means Kylo is lurking near here, or if distance doesn’t matter when it comes to the Force. Whatever the case, it’s probably best that Hux doesn’t know.

“Do you need to eat? We could have an early lunch.”

“I think I’m alright for now.”

“Take a biscuit from over there, I insist,” he says, looking back at his work after you comply.

You finish the rest of the reading in an hour, and you’re left with ambivalence. If the Republic truly is in such a state of disorder, something has to take its place. The First Order, however, seems like an extreme means to that end. It seems like everything is illegal, and the things that aren’t are strictly regulated.

After years of chaos, though, you can somewhat understand why people would give up their liberties in return for safety. You never would, and you’d never truly respect people like that either. You have a feeling neither the General nor Kylo Ren respect their constituents either.

“I don’t think this is a stable form of government,” you risk admitting.

“Dictatorships never are,” he agrees, surprising you. “Of course, we’ll have to lessen our civil restrictions as time goes on, but you have to seize and conquer first. Promise safety in return for compliance.”

Exactly what he’s done with you.

“I... I am conflicted.”

“Good. That’s perfect, actually. I need someone who sees both sides, because I myself am not convinced of everything my superior believes.”

He then explains that his superior is also a Force user, but is also incompetent because he will not lead with his face present for all to see, and prefers to be behind curtains, making shadowy maneuvers without concrete plans. While the General concedes that some secrecy is necessary, he also believes that a leader should be the face of the government and its campaign.

You can’t disagree.


	3. Maybe I Like This Roller Coaster, Maybe It Gets Me High

"A  _sex slave_ , Armitage?" You open the door just to hear that from an unknown voice hissing at your immediate supervisor. Since you've never heard this person's voice, you guess it must be Snoke as there is no else that you know of that could speak to the general like this. "Are you that desperate for companionship? You can have as many whores as you want. I told you I didn't care. But to hire one for your secretary? That was out of line. Was she that good of a fuck?"

"You told me I had full jurisdiction here, Supreme Leader. I never... I never slept with her," he says, and you can feel his embarrassment radiating through the air. You can't see him, as you stay in the doorway, quietly closing the door behind you.

"Then I find myself understanding even less. Unless you merely tricked her here under that pretense, but why? It was the duty she was used to performing. She'd have had no qualms about performing as such for a man of your standing, so why, Armitage?"

"Her resume was on a secretarial database."

Snoke chuckles darkly. "Nonsense."

"Leader, I can procure the documents for you. I couldn't believe it myself. She did everything. She dealt with money, with shipping records, with anything her master required. She will be an asset. I promise you."

"It isn't the same. Besides, we have a chain of succession. I thought you would hire someone who has already been here, who is worthy of a promotion. Besides the fact you have to train her..."

"It's no problem. I would rather the job get done correctly than be done by someone who we believe we should promote just because they've sat in a seat for longer than she has."

"You don't think our secretaries do a fine job?"

"I don't think they'll do the job I require."

"But a barely legal woman who spent most of her life fucking around will?" You wince at that. It's not like you had much of a choice, and to put it that harshly stings.

"I can train her to complete documents and such the way I want, Supreme Leader. Other secretaries already have their ways of doing things--"

"Didn't she have her way of doing things back at the harem?"

The general splutters for a moment before resounding with, "Of course. But she never worked with these exact programs or had to handle this quantity of work. Things were very primitive there, but she excelled with what she had. Besides the fact that she has no ties... She's a very fast learner. Trust me. I know what I am doing with this hire."

"I don't like this soft spot, boy."

"I.. I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You have sympathy for her backstory. I know you're already looking into ending our trade with her previous master. That won't happen."

"But I've found--"

"No. It won't happen on the mere grounds that you are growing too soft. You must harden. Didn't your father teach you anything? You don't have time to rescue damsels in distress. She'll work for you, I'll allow that much. But you will  _not_ avenge her, do you understand me?"

"Y-yes, Supreme Leader," he says, defeat eminent in his tone.

"I took a risk in giving you that promotion three months ago. Your father never spoke well of you, but I figured I would let your record speak for itself. You are an excellent speech writer and giver, I will give you that. If anyone has to be the face of this government, I suppose you would be the most likely candidate. That does not mean that you are equipped to handle what goes on behind the scenes, what I have to deal with... I know you thirst for my place, but it will not come to you if you continue to carry yourself in this way. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

The connection between them seems to end since the general audibly sighs in relief. You decide to walk toward him, handing him the datapad he required Sergeant Doran to sign. 

"You heard everything, didn't you?" he asks, looking at you cautiously as he takes the datapad.

"I did," you admit.

"He probably knew you were there, but thank you for not forcing him to acknowledge your presence."

"Of course, General."

"Did Doran say anything?"

"Only that the Stormtroopers that have defected from under his command have been officially processed out and targets remain on their backs for Intelligence Officers to deal with."

"Good, good. The only ones I truly trust are those that have been programmed since birth, anyway."

"Since birth?" You question him.

He nods. "I know how it sounds, but it's not a bad existence. They're fed well, they're clothed and bathed... It's nothing like what you had to deal with."

"But... they're still slaves."

"Not entirely. They have free will, and some of them will defect as well, though not as many. Besides the fact that their parents were most likely punished for crimes... As you've heard, not much can be done in the way of private slavery, never mind First-Order sanctioned... But I see no reason they can't live out their retirement years as they choose if they served the First Order well in their prime. Unfortunately, they are often forced into other odd jobs that I truly believe should be left to war criminals. We are going to be judged on how we treat our own the closer we get to victory. Snoke doesn't understand that, and neither does Kylo Ren."

You have a hard time believing him, but what can you say? The man was risking his job for you. Now wasn't the time to lecture him on how to do it.

\---------

The burning behind your skull fades and returns by the hour. You know it's Kylo, but you're unsure what to do about it. You could tell the General, but you don't want to cause any more trouble for him.

Besides the fact that you need to get on his good side, too. It's now clearer than ever that the two of them are the key players in this war, at least on this side. The General wants to see you play sabacc? This was how.

The Force does genuinely intrigue you, anyway. You'd heard the older girls speak of it in hushed tones, but you were never aware of anyone who was strong in it. Some of them believed everyone has a sensitivity, while others didn't believe it existed at all.

By this time, you're too tired of fighting it, and you want to go to bed or deal with it. You have a feeling he's pushing you to your limit now, and before was just to annoy you. Now, it scalds, it feels like someone submerged your brain in a fire. 

So you let go, and you immediately regret that decision. "I'm surprised you held out that long, (y/n)," Kylo's voice says in your head, disrupting your own thoughts like jamming a holo signal. "It's impressive. I don't believe you're necessarily strong enough to be weaponized, but you could benefit from training."

"Why should I?" you ask aloud, feeling stupid afterward since the man was in your head. Literally.

"Why shouldn't you? It's an opportunity, isn't it? I believe you could learn some mind control tricks. Learn how to at least handle a lightsaber, even if you'd never fight battles."

"The General would never--"

"Armitage won't know. Come and meet me, (y/n)."

"Where?" you ask, and he tells you to meet him in the narrow hallway just before the cafeteria. So you do, against your better judgment, thankful no one else was out except for some Stormtroopers that were mopping the floors. They don't question you to your face, at least. Perhaps Kylo already told them and warned them not to report it. Unless, of course, the General told them to report all the times they saw you...

But who would they listen to?

Who would  _you_ listen to, is the real question? You feel your nerves go haywire. You'd never disobeyed your master. He killed girls who disobeyed him. What would the general do? Could you really trust in him? Could you really trust in Kylo to take the blame if worse came to worst?

"We're going to the training theater," the masked figure says to you once you reach him. He's even more imposing when you're not wearing heels, and you swallow and nod. "So, I figured out your past. Interesting that Armitage hasn't made any advances to you."

Kylo laughs heartily after he rifles through your head. You wince as he does; it feels like his fingertips are heavy on your skull.

"Do you really think he's that concerned about professionalism, girl? How have you kept your naivete, considering all the things you've seen?"

"I don't think he's interested in sleeping with his secretary," you say bluntly. 

"Then he's a better man than I," Kylo responds, still chuckling a little. "You're... quite the specimen."

Your eyes widen a little. The men you saw on a daily basis weren't exactly in the business of flattery. They wanted you, sure, but it was more about the sin of holding a girl young enough to be their daughters to their chests instead of their wives.

"No one's told you you're pretty, girl? Hmm, except for one, he stands out, doesn't he? You liked him."

Your Mandalorian. He was the first and only virgin you'd ever slept with, and he was intent on making the night good for you, too. He'd have never gone to you, but his clan made him, said it was to become a man. Or you believed him, because lies were always sweeter than the truth.

You remember crying when he left. That was, well, it had to be two years ago now. You never let yourself get attached to clients after that. It wasn't hard, most of them were awful, but some tried to trick you into believing they loved you. It made them feel less guilty for the night you spent in their bed, you suppose. They'd even say it, some of them, call you by another woman's name, pretend they had her back when all they had was you.

"You don't think there was a reason you were at the top? Beauty is half the battle in that kind of business."

He opens the door to the theater, which scares you a little. He could throw you off one of the railings, and that'd be it.

"You should've let me in your head before," he chuckles. "Your thoughts are amusing. You really think I'd bring you all the way here to kill you? Besides the fact that you're more interesting to me alive. But we'll stay over here. We won't go where you're at risk of falling to your death."

Well, at least that, you suppose.

Kylo removes his helmet, something that surprises you considering the fact that Tabitha told you Elara had been to his quarters twice and hadn't seen his face. You see dark, unkempt curls, some of which cover his eyes from the way the helmet was sitting on his head. His eyes are as dark and nearly as crazed as his hair, and they pierce yours. His skin is a pale peachy tone which provides a stark contrast to his hair and eyes. With a sharp jawline and plump lips to boot, you can't say he isn't striking.

Why couldn't all your clients have looked like First Order men?

You kick yourself for thinking that. It's not like some of them weren't good looking. It was the situation that made them ugly, regardless.

Besides the fact that Kylo can hear you.

His gloved hand cups your chin. "You need to keep eye contact with me and force me out of your head. I won't put up much resistance. If I can feel you pushing at me, I'll let go."

You try as hard as you can, but it was so much more difficult to resist him when he had already squirmed his way in. He releases his hand from your chin, but still, keeping eye contact with him is still distracting. You start to feel Kylo's already lighter touch dissipating, but you let go too soon and it hits you again full force.

"Well, that was good for a start," he says as you feel him remove himself from your head completely. "I know you're confused as to why I've taken such an interest in you. I must admit I am bored. I can't do as much as I'd like with you, but it's more than I could do with anyone else on this base. Besides... as I've said, I don't mind looking at you. I suppose the feeling is mutual, girl..."

You feel your cheeks flush. "Why wear the mask?"

"Long story," he sighs. "Short one, it's imposing. I let you see my face because I... I have to hide it from everyone else on the base. I'm not lying, it does help with the Force if you can look directly into my eyes. But also, girl, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to kiss you. Do you want me to?"

"W-what?"

"You heard me," he says, his hand coming up to cup your chin again. "No one's ever really kissed you, have they?"

"No."

He responds by pressing his lips to yours softly. He has to bend down, and you can feel yourself flush harder, the cool leather against your face a welcome contrast. He pulls away a little, his breath still mingling with yours. "Armitage truly is a better man than I," he mutters before kissing you again.


	4. Get a Little Bit of Bourbon in Ya

You find yourself kissing Kylo often, or, rather, it’s the other way around. It seems anytime he can get you alone, his lips are on yours.

He does it in the worst circumstances, too, as if he gets off on the thought of getting you in trouble with the General. Whenever you’re off collecting paperwork from other officers or giving Captain Phasma urgent intel that Hux doesn’t trust on the servers but inexplicably entrusts with you, Kylo seems to be waiting, pulling you into dark corners just to press his lips to yours, to leave you frazzled for the rest of the day, to leave you with a strange feeling, maybe of desire....

You almost want this man, and not just for the power he possesses.

And that’s enough to scare you beyond belief.

What kind of man could do that, could make you want him after your entire life had been subservient to the men you were forced to fuck? You have half a mind to believe he’s using mind control on you.

Can you care that much? It feels so good, his soft lips on yours and his hands in your hair, that tingling feeling in your stomach as the skin of his bare, calloused hand touches yours...

Maybe this is what the other girls talked about when they said a client was attractive, was someone they desired. You’d always been repulsed, except by the one man who took the time to make sure your own feelings were taken into account.

What was Kylo doing to you now? It was more than what the Mandalorian had done. Sex wasn’t even on the table.

But you carried this guilt with you whenever you saw the General. He was the man who opened all these doors for you, and now you were spitting on his feet while he had his back turned. You would never have dreamt of doing such things to your previous master.

But you’d never been in love before, either.

——

It’s stupid to call it love, you tell yourself as you fix your hair in the bathroom from Kylo’s attempt to ruin it seconds prior. You’re meeting him later for training, but all you’re going for is the kisses.

“Did the Hux seriously forbid you to have contact with me?” You startle at that, seeing Elara behind you in the mirror once you look up.

“What? Um, not explicitly. I’ve just been busy.” It wasn’t really a lie, but you sound unconvincing anyway.

“Oh, well... it just seems that you have been. Maybe he’s been making you scarce on purpose.” Elara rolls his eyes. “I guess you’re a good enough secretary for him then. You’ve lasted longer than I did at this point. He kept me for three weeks. You’ve been here a month now. Maybe it’s because you’re just... never mind.”

“No, what?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“You just seem naturally subservient, that’s all. Hux needed someone he could mold, and I already knew ways that were better, but he didn’t like that. Whatever. The man is a piece of work.”

“Weren’t you going to marry him?”

Elara laughs sardonically. “Hmm. Yes. Thank the stars that didn’t fall through. Anyway, you should probably get moving. You wouldn’t want to keep Master Hux waiting.”

——-

You see the General with a bottle of liquor at his desk when you get back, and he takes a long swig before noticing that you’re watching him. It was late, after dinner, and you were supposed to meet Kylo in an hour and a half.

“I thought alcohol was outlawed,” you say.

“Being the First Commander has its perks,” he responds dully, wincing as the liquid burns his throat.

“You work a lot.”

“So do you, (y/n). It’s the price we pay. We don’t have a hokey religion to bow down to, we don’t carry around a glow stick and wave it around. We only have our work ethic.”

“That’s true,” you agree. “You just received the promotion?”

“Yes. Four months to today. It’s more responsibility than I imagined, but I’m determined to handle it. You’re doing a fine job, by the way. I’ve only had to correct two documents this week. It seems you’ve adapted well to the new sabacc game.”

You could live off compliments from your superiors, you think.

“Have a drink with me,” he says suddenly, retrieving glasses from a drawer in his desk.

“But I still—“

“Leave it. I still have work, too. I haven’t had a day off since I started this position... we can both have an hour.”

It’s always easier to gain a drunk man’s trust. You’d never drank with your master before, though. When he was intoxicated, you would pamper him, let him take you, and make sure he got to bed with you by his side. Men feel like they owe something to the women that are with them in their moments of weakness.

“It’s bourbon,” he says, as he pours the dark amber liquid into two glasses. “Have you ever drank before?”

“No,” you admit.

He chuckles, and it’s a foreign sound to you. “Maybe this isn’t what you should start out with then. I believe I have some Tarul wine somewhere...” The general stands and walks over to a cabinet, procuring a wine glass and a dusty bottle of wine. “It looks old, but it’s fine. It’s supposed to be aged, anyway. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t drink much. I’ve had this for a year, I believe. I think Elara’s father may have actually given this to me when my own passed...”

He pours you a glass, and sips at his bourbon, looking at you cautiously. “I’m sorry for your loss,” you say.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t much of a loss at all. Do you remember your own parents?”

“My mother was one of the slaves. She had me when she was fifteen and died in childbirth. I don’t know anything else,” you admit. You couldn’t grieve for what you never had. You had a sisterhood in the harem when you weren’t pissed at them. When you were younger, you remember cleaning a lot and trying to stay out of the way. You had a good relationship with one of the older slaves, so she was the closest thing to a mother you had until she died in her sixties when you were twelve.

“I didn’t get to know my mother well, either. My father wasn’t married to her. It’s a long story,” he sighs, his lips parting around his drink in a way that reminds you he’s human. Sometimes he seems so distant, so cold, it’s like you’re working with a droid.

No, you’ve known of droids more personable than him.

Still, you don’t have much to complain about. You didn’t ask to be entertained. You have clothes, food, and a bed. You have acquaintances. You have a ladder to climb your way up. You’re in a good place, and it’s all because of this man.

You can’t hate him. You don’t care what any of his end goals are with the position he holds as long as you’re there with him.

You sip at your wine, enjoying the sweet taste that accompanies it. You always wondered what it tasted like and you’re not disappointed.

The General drinks quickly, as both glasses of bourbon are gone in fifteen minutes and he’s pouring himself another. He notices you eyeing him and he chuckles again. “Yes. It seems I can’t even leave drinking unfinished. A task is a task. It’s why I don’t do it often. I’d be an alcoholic in a week if I did.”

You start to feel a buzz from the wine too, after you finish your first glass. He tops it off after you take the last sip, smiling at you for the first time. You’re wary about drinking more, and you’re more wary about possibly standing Kylo up.

“Do you like it here?”

“General, I’m astonished you even feel the need to ask me that question concerning that you know what my previous tasks were,” you say.

“Of course...” he says, his voice trailing off. “I can only hope this is a good thing. My father wouldn’t have wanted me here. He would’ve defected if he saw me in this chair. Nonetheless... I’m here, for better or worse.”

“How did he die?”

The General sighs. “That’s a story for another time. You didn’t offend, I just do not want to get into that tonight. We’re drinking to relax, not reminisce.”

“He doesn’t seem like he was a good father,” you say, edging in some sympathy.

“He wasn’t. He didn’t want me, and maybe I can’t blame him. I did tarnish his reputation, but he should have been more careful... I suppose I should be lucky to have had a father figure present at all, (y/n). You have performed excellently, as I’ve said, but no one should have to live that way.”

“I took it for what it was,” you say, shrugging. “It was my task, so I did it.”

“Still, though, what kind of man seeks such a thing out?” The general makes a face and takes a long swig of his drink.

“Are you really going to put a stop to it?” you ask, even though you know he can’t really do anything about it now.

“I’m going to try. Really, (y/n). I think it’s depraved, and the fact that the First Order would rather let that slide but ban...alcohol consumption... I can’t stand for that. Unfortunately, you heard my superior. It seems that not much of anything will happen until I am Supreme Leader...” The way it rolls off his tongue, the thirst he has for that position is eminent. “Of course... most people loyal to the First Order feel the same way. They don’t want to see women degraded like that. It shouldn’t be hard to sway people.”

“I thought you said the First Order didn’t allow sex slaves.”

“They don’t, although we may turn a blind eye to say, ammunition dealers. That’s only going to perpetuate it. The Resistance is no better. They turn their eyes, too, or claim this type of work empowers women. Asinine.”

Your eyes widen at that. “Are you sure?”

“I can give you that article tomorrow if you like. I couldn’t believe it myself.”

How could anyone think teenagers giving away their bodies was empowering? Perhaps if it was an adult woman doing so with the promise of payment afterward, that would be a different story.

He reaches over for your hand and you look up to see his eyes glazed over and the bottle halfway gone.

Great.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt here. I’d never forgive myself if the bastard Kylo got to you, or gods forbid, Snoke. There are other men on this base to be wary of, but I am better suited to protect you from them.”

“I’ll be careful, General,” you say, the lie bitter in your mouth. Since the day you met Kylo, you’d been reckless, and now you were wondering once again if you should’ve heeded warnings more seriously.

Wasn’t it too late now? You think of Kylo, his body warm and flush against yours, and you realize you’re already too far gone.

“Good. You’re just too... you’re too good to be used again...” he mutters, his words slurring together more noticeably than they had been after he downs the rest of the amber liquid. “You’re beautiful...”

He’s not looking at you, he’s looking at your hand he intertwined with his.

“You’re not going to like that you said that in the morning. You should go to bed. I think you’ve had enough,” you say as gently as you can.

“Walk with me,” he insists, and it’s probably a good thing he did since he stumbles past the desk when he stands. He leans against you, his body stiff against yours. It takes some effort to get anywhere with him, but you manage to head toward his quarters. “I don’t have the access code,” you tell him.

“What? I thought I gave it to you,” he slurs. “It’s the same as yours.”

You punch in the six numbers and thankfully, the door opens. He takes off his gloves and jacket and then looks at you expectedly, standing almost uncomfortably close to you. You can smell the bourbon on his breath.

The General sighs, his breath fanning warmly against your face. “Good night, (y/n),” he breathes.

“Good night, General,” you say as you start to step away.

“Call me Armitage from now on,” he says, and you nod in affirmation before walking out the door, your heels clicking against the dark tile. You don’t know how much he’ll remember in the morning, but you hope it’s not much. At least nothing really happened...

“I didn’t know I was supposed to spend my time waiting around for you, (y/n).”

Oh, the stars, were you in for it now.

 


End file.
